And She Was Art
by K.Quinn22
Summary: He created things, she'd called him an artist, that's what he was. He created chaos and hysteria and painted the streets of Gotham with it. But he also created beauty, and she was the most beautiful thing he'd ever made. But artists didn't create things to keep, artists didn't get to share a bed with their paintings every night, neither did criminals. And Joker was both of those.
1. She looked like art

**A new idea I want to experiment with, just a short lil rough draft to start. I'll post a lot more soon but i needed something to go off of.**

A crisp white letter on a rotting wood floor. The last thing he received from the woman that'd said she loved him more times than he'd taken a life. But of course that's all love was, just words. Though something was different for him when they came from her lips. But as he read the sparse letter, the realization that things perhaps weren't so different from her lips; just beautifully (and painfully) disguised.

" _And Gatsby knew then, that his count of enchanted objects had decreased by one."_

That's what he was left with; a quote from his lovers favorite book. He understood the meaning, he knew what she was telling him. It wasn't bitter or hateful, she didn't resent him; not at all. It was appreciation, it was her finally taking flight.

She'd been broken when they first met; she wasn't happy she wasn't living, simply existing. He changed that gave her imagination gave her happiness and excitement, he made her alive he gave he wings. But she never flew away from him. She was his prized creation, his Phoenix from flames; and she owed everything to him.

But there was no denying that she was ready to fly away; she was his queen and he'd always be her king, but it was time for his queen to rule herself for awhile. Maybe she'd come back, neither of them knew. But for now it was goodbye, and for once in his damn life he felt utterly empty. Because even though this was exactly how he'd planned it from the start, this wasn't what he'd come to want.

Harleen Quinzel was a brilliantly beautiful and talented woman shrouded in misery, heartbreak and boredom. She'd been clay on a pottery wheel ready for his hands to shape, all he needed was water.

He created things, she'd called him an artist, that's what he was. He created chaos and hysteria and painted the streets of Gotham with it. But he also created beauty, and she was the most beautiful thing he'd ever made. And through the years together she'd never failed to put a smile on his face, never failed to be anything short of perfect to him.

But artists didn't create things to keep, they created them to sell or admire, or for satisfaction. Artist didn't get to share a bed with their paintings every night, neither did criminals. But Joker was both of those, and she was his painting, he couldn't keep her like he wanted to. His queen was gone, and he was alone.


	2. Losing Touch

**I'm sorry for the wait I expected to finish the next chapter quicker but unfortunately I didn't. I work two jobs, have college classes and am still trying to have a personal life; it's difficult for me to find time to work on the story even though I really want to.**

 **My father was recently re-diagnosed with prostate cancer I'm struggling to deal with that so I apologize in advance if my updates are very very slow; I would love it if you guys bore with me because I have really good plans for this story and I really want to make it best I can. So a really big thanks to the people that favorited, liked and the two authors that reviewed the first very short chapter I really appreciate everything, you guys are the best. Without further talking here's chapter two.**

The concept of chaos was simple, complete and utter disorder and confusion; and that's exactly what he was. He was twisted and confusing and as much as she prided herself on knowing him like the back of her hand, the man was still the devil, and one should know better than to fall for the ticks he played; but of course she'd managed to. Not that she regretted it, no she loved it. There was an edge to their relationship that she'd often tiptoe across, just for fun, just for that look he'd give her.

His eyes burned like shinning blue stars, giant burning balls of heat that only burned brighter with every emotion he felt. They only burned that bright for her, not another soul got to see the explosions within is pools of blue. He was her Devine being, her creator, her king. He made the world turn he made it spin so fast she could barely steady herself, it was a roller coaster of ups and downs with him, but even when he went down he never lacked his vividness.

But just as colors on a canvas fade over time, so did parts of her. She'd always felt complete with him, always felt like the puzzle he'd found the missing piece to; now something wasn't there anymore, something wasn't enough for her. She hate that now after six years with the man who'd changed her life, she felt slightly dissatisfied. She owed everything to him, her life, her love, her heart, all of her belonged to him; so why was she changing?

Often she'd find herself crying uncontrollably when she was alone, like something was stuck in her throat that she couldn't ever get out and crying seemed to be some sort of release. She used to love when he'd yell at her or hit her; now she always wanted to hit back, which in their six years together she'd never done or even thought about doing. She wasn't the same and she knew he saw it.

She blamed Belle Reve for changing her, the things they did to her were worse than anything J had done. He did everything out of passion and love but they aimed to humiliate her, destroy her self worth, make her less of what she was, turn her to mush. And they'd almost succeeded, had she been forced to endure just another month, whatever insanity that kept her sane would've dissipated.

She didn't like being hit anymore, she didn't like being told what to do or where to go. And it felt like everyone around her was doing just that.

Waller still had ties to Harley; whenever she was taken into custody she was sent to Waller to do her biding, and she absolutely hated it. Then she'd break out and be forced to do what J wanted from her. He gave her freedom but not enough to silence her urges or to calm her nerves.

It felt like drowning, like everything around her was consuming her thoughts, her actions, her feelings; everything was inhibiting her ability to process and to make decisions. She felt stupid and confused because her brain so often just stopped working. She just wanted a break from it all, she wanted to do something else, something for herself; she wanted all the pressure all the confusion, doubts and fears to just go away.

She couldn't keep living like that, she was turning into something she wasn't; for god sake she wanted a break from her own king that she was madly and unconditionally in love with, that wasn't her that wasn't normal.

She needed space before everything she had left of her disappeared, she didn't want to lose herself in the madness the way her lover had. He loved confusion and chaos and everything that made a person fall apart; and so did she, but when it came to her mind, her thoughts and actions, the way she felt, she couldn't live like that.

She needed to find Harleen Quinzel again; she needed to fix herself, make herself better than what she was becoming, she'd lost a part of her that kept her grounded and if she carried on like this she'd be lost forever.

 **I'm sorry the chapters are so short! I promise they'll get bigger in time.**


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